


The Trouble With... Furbies?

by lindenrosetps



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Chekov and Scotty are sheer chaos, Crack, Furbies, Gen, Humor, Tribbles (Star Trek), inspired by a tumblr post, no betas we die like redshirts, wth even is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25498423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindenrosetps/pseuds/lindenrosetps
Summary: Chekov and Scotty come across some old earth toys while on shore leave and have a brilliant idea for what to do with them.Of course, they're not the only ones on ship who can be pranksters.
Relationships: Pavel Chekov & Montgomery "Scotty" Scott
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	The Trouble With... Furbies?

**Author's Note:**

> So I have absolutely no idea where it is now but you know that one tumblr post that's like "what if all the tribbles in Star Trek were replaced with furbies?"  
> This was inspired by that. Also most of the plot came from my friend GiGi (who is not on AO3 sadly) so big thank you to her! We laughed so hard while coming up with this.

The _Enterprise_ crew was enjoying a well-deserved shore leave in one of the bases. Jim had forbidden the purchase of any small animals such as Tribbles and there were no Klingons or other enemies in this area, so hopefully there wouldn't be any strange incidents.

But of course, this was the _Enterprise_. Something was bound to happen.

Chekov had been exploring the starbase when he came across a corner and did a double take, nearly falling backwards into Scotty. "Mr. Scott!"

"Woah, lad!" Scotty steadied him. "What is it?"

"What are those things?" hissed Chekov.

Scotty looked around the corner and came face to face with an unusual sight. There was a huge pile of stuffed creatures filling a display. They came in all different colors and had large ears, soulless plastic eyes, and a yellow beak that gave them a strange deadpan expression. Feet stuck out from underneath their round, furry bodies. Scotty could see why Chekov had been so startled. The rows of stuffed animals simply staring at them with their huge hooded eyes were extremely disquieting.

"Ah, gentleman!" An alien with a wrinkled forehead appeared from behind the creatures. "Can I interest you in a Furby?"

"A what?" Scotty looked at him blankly. "Is that what these are?"

"Yes, sir," wheedled the alien. "They're an old earth toy known as a Furby. Very popular on this starbase."

"Old earth people were wery strange," muttered Chekov.

"They can talk too, sir," said the alien. He picked one up and pressed a button and the creature began to speak gibberish in a strange, high-pitched voice.

"Aye, they can talk," said Scotty. "But ye can't understand a word they're sayin'."

"They start out speaking Furbish, but they can grow to learn any language you choose."

"I think those things speaking Russian would give me nightmares," said Chekov.

"I don't think we need any Furbies today," said Scotty. He prepared to walk on, then stopped and looked back at Chekov. "You coming, lad?"

A devious smile spread across Chekov's face. "Mr. Scott… don't you think Keptin Kirk could use something to cheer him up? He's been wery tired lately."

Scotty raised his eyebrows. "An' ye think these would do that for him?"

"I think… it would be a nice surprise."

Scotty smiled slowly. "I think ye're right." He turned back to the salesman. "We'll take the lot."

Chekov's grin widened further. "This should be good."

~*~

Jim rubbed his temples with one hand as he walked back to his quarters. It'd been a long day and he was more than ready to collapse into bed and sleep for a few hours. He opened the door groggily and was met with an overwhelming flood of fur.

For a moment, Jim thought that tribbles had invaded the ship again. He gave a startled shout, then realized that these creatures had far brighter colors. And eyes. They were all staring at him with a variety of plastic and electronic eyes and were speaking in some sort of garbled gibberish.

"What in the…" Jim struggled to extricate himself from the mess. "Where did all these come from?"

"Jim!" called Bones from down the hall. "I thought I told you to get some rest… what in the world are you doing? Are those Furbies?"

"Bones, you know what these are?" Jim turned and looked at him.

"I haven't seen a Furby in years." Bones chuckled and picked one up. "They were real popular back in the 20th century and they kinda stuck around. But where did you get so many and why are they all in your quarters?"

"Someone's idea of a joke, apparently." Jim finally climbed out of the pile of Furbies and stared at them. "You say they were popular in the 20th century?"

"They were children's toys," explained Bones. "Though why someone thought kids would like these I'll never understand. I always thought they were creepy."

"I think I agree with you. Do you have any idea who put them in my quarters?"

Bones frowned. "Scotty and Chekov were acting a bit strange when they got back from shore leave. They kept laughing quietly."

"I'll go talk to them." Jim started to leave, then stopped and smiled. "Actually, I think I have a better idea."

~*~

Chekov groaned, turning over in his sleep and pulling his pillow over his head. Someone was trying to talk to him, but he couldn't quite make out the words. Actually, it sounded like several someones. Was he late for a shift or something?

The chattering continued and he fired his pillow in the general direction of the sound, grumbling in Russian.

Without the pillow over his head, he had no choice but to look around. He pried open his eyes, then gasped and crawled backwards.

Chekov was met by sets of glowing eyes. He could vaguely make out short, blunt beaks, long strands of hair, and twitching ears. The creatures rocked back and forth, their voices overlapping into a cacophony of gibberish. Furbies. Chekov remained frozen in horror for a second, then let out a scream. They were surrounding his bed on every side. He snatched his phaser and fired at the creatures, reducing them to half-melted heaps that smelled of fur and burnt plastic. The chattering garbled further, coming alternately at high speeds or deep, low ones. They were everywhere, and their movement in the dim light made it seem like they were advancing on him, preparing to smother him with their round furry bodies. He screamed again and rolled off the bed, letting off a few more bursts of phaser fire. More Furbies went up in smoke, but there were still plenty to squawk at him. Chekov made a break for the door, bursting out of it and stumbling into someone.

"Chekov?" asked Bones, pushing him upright. "What's going on?"

Chekov tried to explain in hurried bursts, gasping for breath between sentences, but Bones shook his head. "Calm down, Chekov, I can't understand a word you're saying. I don't even think half of it is in English.

"Furbies!" panted Chekov. "In my quarters… a whole crowd of them…"

Another scream echoed from down the hall and Scotty appeared, his hair sticking up at odd angles and a phaser in his hand. "Dr. McCoy! Me room's full of the little beasts!"

"You too?" gasped Chekov. "We never should've… pranked the…"

"Pranked who, Mr. Chekov?" Jim stepped out of another room, his arms crossed.

"Keptin!" Chekov straightened immediately and put his hands behind his back. "I… we're sorry, sir."

"It was only a joke, Captain." Scotty smoothed down his hair and adjusted his black undershirt. "We didn't mean any harm by it."

"I know that, Mr. Scott," said Jim. "But I found it about as amusing as you do right now."

Chekov smiled sheepishly, looking backwards at his smoking quarters. "Yes, sir. It won't happen again, Keptin."

"See that it doesn't, both of you. You might face worse consequences in the future."

"Aye, sir," said Scotty. "Though I can't imagine much worse than wakin' up to see those glowing eyes just starin' at ye."

"Let's hope that you don't have to. Both of you will be doing some extra shifts this week, and since I doubt you'll be able to get any sleep after that, you might as well start now."

"Yes, sir," grumbled Chekov. He stepped back into his quarters and came out with his yellow uniform on slightly crooked. He straightened it and then headed for the bridge.

~*~

Sulu's lips twitched in amusement as Chekov and Scotty stumbled into the rec room, fresh from their shift on the bridge. Both were yawning and rubbing their eyes, and the first thing they got from the synthesizers were very large cups of coffee.

"Long night?" he asked sympathetically, taking his tray of food and sitting down next to them. It was no secret that they'd been involved in some sort of prank - they'd waken up half the floor with their screams - but nobody really knew the details.

Chekov glared at him over the rim of his mug. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You certainly made a commotion." Sulu grinned. "What happened?"

"I _said_ I don't want to talk about it."


End file.
